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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25182034">Rescue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity'>stateofintegrity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>MASH (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:29:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25182034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If you're going to suffer from terrible headaches, it's good to have a handsome doctor to call on for help.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rescue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hawkeye sighed, pulled his robe tighter, dumped his towel and toiletries on the wooden bench inside the shower room and marched for the Swamp. He shook Charles’ shoulder until he woke. “Your boyfriend’s in the shower with a migraine. Go get him, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually, Charles would have protested the descriptor of Klinger as “his” anything, but he knew how bad those headaches were; he was up in an instant. “Why didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> get him?” he whispered, not wanting to wake Hunnicutt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wouldn’t let me. He’ll let you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles wanted to argue with him, to ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> Klinger would permit his touch when he wouldn’t tolerate Pierce’s, but he was too worried to waste time fighting with the other doctor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of everyone on the base, only he and Hawkeye knew about the horrible headaches Klinger suffered. Charles didn’t know how Pierce had found out (maybe, hard as it was for Charles to swallow, he simply was a better doctor) but the story of his own discovery didn’t exactly cast him in the best of light. He and Klinger had been working together at an aid station, dispatched by their compassionate leader because things at the 4077th were slow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In this new environment, Klinger had proved a terrible liability - dropping things, stumbling… once, Winchester had thought he might humiliate them both by throwing up. Snapping at the man hadn’t helped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, he’d had time enough to grab the Corporal by his collar, drag him out of earshot of their hosts, and demand an explanation. Klinger had endured his anger, flinching a few times (the remembrance of which made Charles cringe) but had tried to dance around giving an explanation. In fact, Charles was fairly sure he never would have gotten the truth out of him if he hadn’t chanced to touch his hands. They were ice cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without consciously realizing what he was looking for, Winchester had gripped the Corporal’s chin in one hand. He’d tallied the signs: the man’s nose was cold, purple circles ringed his eyes, and his neck was tight. Winchester couldn’t tell by looking, but he was willing to bet that Klinger’s blood pressure was also abnormal. Rummaging in his kit bag, he found and prepared a syringe. Klinger looked like he wanted to fight him on it - he was no great fan of needles - but the doctor lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, try me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Klinger gave in. Within moments of the medication entering his bloodstream, he’d slumped, released from the migraine’s grip - at least a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why,” Winchester asked after a moment, “are you laboring to keep this such a secret?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger had shrugged. “They happen a lot. You doctors need all hands in OR. What am I gonna say - ‘Sorry, Colonel, I need to lay down in a dark room for awhile?’” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>medical </span>
  </em>
  <span>condition, Klinger. You work in a hospital. Everyone would understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want to do my job, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, you stubborn thing,” he had said - not without a certain amount of admiration - “Will you at least allow me to make up for treating you so cruelly in there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger looked skeptical, but Charles had chosen to believe this was due to the mental disorientation caused by the headache. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will keep your secret if you wish me to, but when this happens again, come and get me and I will help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger had agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why he had not come tonight, Charles could guess easily enough. He had placed the Major’s sleep above his own suffering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles entered the showers and thought, at first, that Pierce had misjudged the severity of the Corporal’s pain, that Klinger had gotten better and left. But no. There on the shower floor was a tiny, bedraggled Corporal, rolled almost into a ball as hot water cascaded over him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, it must have been hot </span>
  <em>
    <span>once</span>
  </em>
  <span>, anyway, Charles thought as he entered the spray, killed the water, and bundled Klinger into a towel. “Come on, Corporal. Only the Navy allows its men to drown. That you would turn heads and break hearts in the uniform, I have no doubt, but you would have to begin your section eight attempts from scratch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe without even knowing it, Klinger clung to him - shivering, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurting</span>
  </em>
  <span>, eyes very wide but also bewildered. “I would take this from you if I could,” Charles told him, administering the medicine and he blinked in surprise; it was a sentiment he’d never experienced with any other patient. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he went through a series of motions he hadn’t performed since Honoria was a baby: dressing the pain-dazed man before him, toweling off hair so richly colored it seemed it might stain the cloth. When Klinger was back to rights, Charles lifted him up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Major, you don’t hafta,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lest recent events did not give it away, I am a doctor, Max. You are too wobbly to be wandering about - and that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>before </span>
  </em>
  <span>the injection. Hush.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The proper procedure was to put Klinger back where he belonged - back in his own bunk among sequins and satins and patterns. He thought of Pierce’s words. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he did that? So reasoning, he took Klinger home with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawkeye was drowsing when Winchester returned; he didn’t realize the Major had company until murmured voices reached his ear. When he looked up in the amber-ochre light of the stove, he almost gasped. Klinger was splayed on the outside of the cot- taking up most of it, really, and his fatigues were disarranged. His shirt had been pushed high, showing his shoulder blades; his pants were tugged low. Across the wide expanse of his back laid bare, Charles’ hand moved in lazy circles, soothing. Klinger looked so soft - his skin looked soft to the touch and he seemed like he was melting at being touched so lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, well. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’d mostly been joking with Charles, but it seemed like he might have been on to something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jealously, Pierce thought how good it would feel to be touched that way, to be revived by a lover who was purposely sacrificing his comfort (and wasn’t that unusual for Winchester?) just to touch more of you and ease you down to sleep. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If this is what you get for laying down in the showers, Klinger, I’m half tempted to try it! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As he watched, Klinger’s breathing evened out and Charles oh-so-slowly covered him - putting his clothes back in place, then easing the blankets up. When he smiled at the sleeping form and protectively curled around him, Pierce fought back the urge to cheer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>End! </span>
</p>
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